


Going Soft

by Perpetual Motion (perpetfic)



Category: Law & Order: SVU, Trouble in the Heights (2011)
Genre: Alternate Career, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Mike Dodds Bingo, Prompt Fill, i mean clearly, this might be my rarest rarepair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:35:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25861438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perpetfic/pseuds/Perpetual%20Motion
Summary: To answer a prompt request: Nevada loves (his soft boy) Mike Dodds.Doesn't mean he's not still half-feral, though.
Relationships: Nevada Ramirez/Mike Dodds
Comments: 9
Kudos: 17
Collections: MIKE DODDS!!





	Going Soft

Nevada doesn't look up when Mike walks into his office at the back of the club. It's almost midnight, which means it's almost time for the first cash drop of the night, and he needs to finish the count before he hands it off to one of his runners to take it to the bank. 

"I can hear you coughing over the music," Mike says. 

"Bullshit," Nevada replies, then has to swallow hard so he doesn't start coughing again. He still doesn't look up, but he feels Mike step up beside him. For a man the size of a small bear, Mike gives off a calm, gentle energy that always makes Nevada want to lean into him. He'd felt it the first time he'd met Mike. Nevada's head of security had given notice. His mother was sick and needed constant care. Nevada had sent the man away with a stack of untraceable cash to help with bills and an order to Ramon--his next senior man--to find a replacement. 

Two days later, Ramon had walked into this same office with Mike Dodds. An old military buddy, Ramon had explained. Fluent in Spanish--"Well, probably," Mike had said with a self-effacing grin--and built like a fucking truck. 

"How much did they feed you in the army?" Nevada had asked, taking in Mike's huge biceps and the way his legs filled out his jeans. 

"Not as much as he ate as a boxer," Ramon had replied as Mike had blushed. "Former Golden Gloves."

"Oh?" Nevada's second once-over lingers a bit more than his first. He looks at Mike's hands, then his face. "Your face must have been too pretty to break." Mike's blush gets a bit brighter, but he meets Nevada's gaze without flinching. "Your Spanish is good enough," he says. "You're hired."

He'd expected Mike to last a few weeks at best. The calm, gentle nature he carries seemingly a terrible fit with Nevada's general life. But Mike had shattered his low expectations, taking easily to working as Nevada's muscle while also drawing a line about when and how he'd rough someone up. 

"He owes me money," Nevada had said once.

"Take it out of my salary," Mike had snapped back. "He's trying to keep three kids in a decent school two trains away... If he's late, take his payment from me, and leave him alone to raise his fucking kids."

That'd been the first time Nevada had watched Mike spark to life and his initial appreciation of the man's looks and attitude had slowly shifted over the next several weeks until some _gilipollas_ had pulled a knife during an argument and slashed Mike on the arm. 

Nevada remembers three things after that: throwing the man down half a flight of stairs, pressing his own hand to Mike's arm to stem the bleeding, and swearing a blue streak until Mike had broken him out of it by laughing and ducking his head so their foreheads touched. 

"Just ask me to dinner, _capullo_."

"No," Nevada had replied and instead taken Mike back to his place, cleaned and bandaged his arm, and then shoved him onto his couch and climbed on his lap for their first kiss. 

That had been almost a year ago, and now here Mike is, energy as calm and gentle as ever, giving Nevada an impressive glare as he sets a steaming mug of something lemon-smelling next to Nevada's hands. "Drink it," Mike says. 

"Doesn't smell like my usual," Nevada replies as he wraps a rubber band around the bundle of cash he's been counting and adds it to the stack. 

Mike steps around the front of the desk and goes over to the wall safe, tapping in the combination before opening the door and taking out the bank bag. "It's lemon and hot water with some honey. Hopefully, it'll calms down your cough so you can sleep tonight."

"I slept last night," Nevada says. 

Mike snorts and rolls his eyes as he walks back over to the desk and starts putting the money in the bank bag. "Bullshit. You were up every hour because you woke up coughing."

Nevada wants to argue more, but he can't. Partially because he knows Mike's right--although he'd assumed Mike had slept through it all--and partially because he's got another cough coming on. "Fucking winter," he mutters as he picks up the mug and sips. He starts and looks down at the mug, then up at Mike. "You gonna mention the whiskey, _encanto_?"

"No," Mike answers, pushing the deposit slip towards Nevada. "It's better to sip then than slam it back, and I'd know what you'd do if I'd told you there was booze in it."

Nevada chuckles, but it turns into a cough almost instantly. Mike takes the mug from his hand and sets it aside, then rubs up and down Nevada's back with one large hand as he murmurs reassurances in his ear. 

<"I'm fine, you granny. I'm fine,"> Nevada says as his cough subsides. He's not surprised that Mike doesn't step away or that Mike bites lightly on his ear in punishment for being rude. "You wanna put your mouth to real use, go lower," Nevada says.

"Not tonight," Mike replies, pinching Nevada's middle finger as a back up punishment. "Come on. Ramon's at the bar ready to take over. He can handle the deposit."

"Ramon can't count to ten with his shoes off."

"Well, good thing you can fill out the deposit slip, then."

Nevada looks up to glare at Mike. Mike stares back, unaffected as ever. Nevada sighs, swallows down another cough, and fills out the slip. 

"Finish your drink," Mike says as he takes the slip before Nevada's even set down his pen. 

Nevada picks up the mug and watches Mike move around the office, making a copy of the deposit slip, then scanning it. He puts the original in the safe with the others, then files the copy he made, and finally, he presses the buttons on the printer so the digital copy goes directly to Nevada's accountant. 

"You're getting too comfortable here," Nevada says to Mike's back. 

Mike tenses for just a moment. Nevada hates to see it. He hates even more that his mouth got away from him. Mike's never done anything to make Nevada question his devotion, but Nevada can't help distrusting him. Calm and gentle men--no matter how well they throw a punch--don't stay near Nevada Ramirez. 

"Finish your drink," Mike says without turning around. His hands flex on the printer, the way Nevada has seen them flex on other things when Mike's holding back his temper. There's a dark streak to him, way down deep, and questioning his loyalty brings it out fast. 

Nevada downs the last of his drink and thumps the mug back on the desk. <"I'm sorry,"> he says. <"I trust you.">

Mike sighs heavily and turns. There's a sad slant to his smile, but his eyes are kind. "You're a fucking asshole when you're sick, you know that?"

"I'm a fucking asshole all the time, _encanto_."

"Yeah, but it usually works for you," Mike says. He looks around the office, making certain everything's where it should be before he takes Nevada's coat off the rack and holds it out. "Come on. Let's get you home before you get the whole staff sick, and we have to close down during that convention next week."

"You think a cold's gonna stop any limp-dick analyst from coming here to see titties, you haven't learned shit about the business," Nevada replies, but he lets Mike bundle him into his coat, and he doesn't roll his eyes when Mike knots his own scarf around Nevada's neck. 

Mike opens the door and lets Nevada lead the way to the bar. He stands at Nevada's back, a wall of warmth and protection as Nevada checks in with Ramon, then the floor manager, and then a few of the dancers. It's what he does every night he's at the club, making sure his business is running the way that it should, and he's not going to skip this step just because it feels like he's sawing logs in his chest. 

"We're fine, 'Vada," Lily says when he asks. She's his newest dancer, so she's good for information the other women might keep to themselves or flat-out ignore. "One guy went for my ass and Mike had him out the door in about two seconds."

Nevada cuts Mike a look. "You didn't mention you threw someone out."

"I was closest," Mike says with a shrug. 

Nevada doesn't miss Lily rolling her eyes at Mike's modesty. She's new, but she's clearly been brought up to speed on how Mike is. It makes him proud to know the women are talking to each other, filling in the new ones on how things run. On who Mike is. He doesn't give a flying fuck what his reputation on the street is, but in here with his dancers and his staff? With Mike at all times? He wants to be trusted. 

"Okay, Ramon's taking over, so anyone else goes for your ass, tell him or stab the guy. I don't care which."

"Night, 'Vada. Feel better!" Lily blows him a kiss as she turns to go back into the dressing room. 

"Feel better?" Nevada grumbles as he and Mike step out the side door. The Escalade is idling, and Mike practically lifts Nevada into the back, clearly not wanting him to get a lungful of cold air. "You telling tales on me, _encanto_?"

Mike chuckles as he buckles his seatbelt. "You're pale. Everyone heard you coughing before we opened. Lily's not stupid."

Nevada huffs more to make Mike laugh again than out of genuine annoyance. 

"We good to go, boss?" Luis asks from the driver's seat.

"Yeah," Nevada says. "Get us home, then do whatever the fuck you want. Just don't scratch the paint. And if you fuck someone back here, get the seats shampooed."

Luis laughs and flicks on his headlights as he slowly pulls to the mouth of the alley. In the flickering lights of the city as Luis pulls into traffic, Nevada reaches for Mike's hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing his knuckles. He lays Mike's hand on his thigh. Mike squeezes his thigh once and gives him a bright, happy smile. The same one he gives him every night they manage to go home together. The same one Nevada is pretty sure he'll miss more than sex if Mike ever leaves. But Mike's never threatened to, and Nevada's going to do his best never to be that much of an asshole. 

It's not exactly a classic romance, but it's worked out so far.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank to M for the beta and also for helping me figure out how to write Nevada's voice. 
> 
> A note on the Spanish: I do not speak/read Spanish, so I erred on the side of caution and used bracketed translation for sentences and hope that the single word usages are correct. If I've fucked up, let me know. 
> 
> And to whoever requested it on cc (I think I remember, but I can't swear by it): your mind is very powerful, and I respect that.


End file.
